Sexual Healing
by Bamacrush
Summary: After a scuffle with a suspect, Gibbs and Jenny seek comfort from a hot bath and each other.


**Disclaimer**: NCIS is owned by CBS. All copyrights associated with NCIS belong to them. Only the ideas contained within are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. (yeah I work in the legal field in case you couldn't guess!)

**A/N: ** Two of the world's best sex songs, Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" and "Let's Get It On" are an excellent soundtrack for this piece.

**Naples, Italy, 1998.**

Jenny Shepard leaned against the wall by her apartment door and groaned in pain. Her head throbbed and her back was in spasms. She was shivering from the cold. All thanks to a petty officer who had decided not to go quietly into custody. A scuffle had ensued, and Jenny had been sent flying onto the hood of a car. Gibbs had been punched in the face and knocked into some garbage bins. Luckily, neither one of them had been seriously injured.

Petty Officer Stewart, on the other hand, had not been so lucky; having _accidentally_ suffered a head injury which landed him in the hospital.

Neither Jenny nor Gibbs was terribly sorry about it.

Gibbs gave up fumbling with the key and kicked the door hard in frustration; springing it from the jamb and damaging the lock. Jenny decided now was not a good time to ask how she would lock the door again. Given his present mood, Gibbs would shoot anybody that tried to come in.

"Go on, Jen. Run a bath. Hot as you can stand it. I'll pour you a drink. Pain killers?"

"Jethro, I'm fine!"

"No, Jen, you're not," he replied angrily.

She took a good look at him. He was tense and scowling. He had dirt in his hair and a huge bruise was forming on his cheek. She could see deep scratches on his neck. The knee of his jeans was torn. He was in no better shape than she was. But now was not the time for an argument, so she acquiesced.

"They're in the kitchen by the stove. Get yourself some too, Jethro. You're not looking too spry yourself."

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging bits of dirt and debris onto her carpet.

"I'm fine. Go! Hot water. Epsom salts if you got 'em."

She watched him as he limped to her kitchen. Too stubborn to admit he was hurting as well.

Jenny slid slowly and carefully into the steaming lavender-infused bath; closing her eyes with a sigh as she felt her body relaxing with the slow descent into oblivion. She grabbed the bath sponge and slowly squeezed it over her head, allowing the soothing droplets to run over her dirty hair and battered body. She could feel the pain ebbing away as the water trickled over her chest and abdomen. The steam from the bath enveloped her, protecting her from the world outside.

"Ahhh", she sighed softly.

She felt the change in temperature as Gibbs eased the bathroom door open with his foot, and walked in carrying two large tumblers of bourbon. He set the drinks on the counter and fished in his pockets for a handful of pills.

"You okay?"

She opened one eye and mumbled, "Yeah. Better now." The warm water was working its magic, allowing her to begin to release the stress and fear of the day.

He handed her a tumbler and a couple of pills, watching carefully to make sure she took them.

"Thanks," she replied as she settled back into the tub.

Leaning against the counter sipping his bourbon, he continued to watch her. Trying to decide if she was as okay as she said she was. He didn't believe her, and yet he couldn't stop looking at her. Her skin was flushed and droplets of water beaded on her chest and shoulders. Her nipples were taut.

He could feel himself reacting to her, but now was not the time. She was hurt and here he was fighting the urge to pull her hair and bite her neck.

She could feel his gaze boring into her. _Always protective Jethro_, she mused. He was as bruised and sore as she was, and there was only one way to convince him to take care of himself.

To let him think he was caring for her.

"There's room for two in here. I could use a neck massage."

"Subtle," he snorted. "If I get in, I may not be able to get out," he admitted reluctantly.

"The soak will help. I'll rub you if you'll rub me," she teased.

"It smells flowery. It's girly," he grumbled.

"I didn't have any salts. Lavender helps, too. No one will smell you but me. C'mon, Jethro."

"I don't want to hurt you more than that bastard already did."

"You won't. You can't. You can only make me feel better. Please?"

He slowly stripped off his dirty clothes and gingerly stepped into the tub behind her. Very carefully easing down into the warmth and settling in with her back nestled against his chest; his legs over hers, and her elbows resting on his thighs.

He leaned back against the tub, sipping his bourbon and enjoying the warmth of the water seeping into his sore muscles. He relished the heat of her skin pressed against his. Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed gently so as not to hurt her, but just enough to let her know he was there.

"You actually listened?" he muttered into her ear. "It's hot as hell in here."

"You said hot as I can stand it."

"Yeah, I did. It's helping, right?"

"Yes. And there's something else you can do to help me.

"Really?"

"Wash my hair? It's nasty."

Draining the last of his bourbon, he dipped the glass into the warm water.

"Close your eyes."

He slowly emptied the glass over her hair and repeated the process several times. The water trickled tantalizingly down her neck and shoulders, causing him to fight the urge to follow each and every drop with his lips. He poured a generous amount of shampoo onto her wet hair. As he lathered the soap into her hair with his strong calloused fingers, he enjoyed her quiet moans and purrs of pleasure. He massaged her scalp, occasionally running his thumbs up the back of her neck; slowly working out the knots and the stress which had collected there.

"Rinse."

Slowly, he poured water over her hair, drinking her in as he watched the soapy trail run down her chest and over her breasts.

As the water ran clear, he finally gave into the urge to taste the droplets as he trailed his lips and tongue down her neck and shoulders. He felt her shiver at the sensations.

"Girly tastes good on you, Jen."

He tightened his grip; pulling her closer into him. She could feel his arousal pressed against her back. Wriggling against him, she caused him to groan, and together they shifted in the tub, looking for a more comfortable position.

It didn't take him long to realize he had a problem.

Something firm yet squishy had worked its way under his ass.

"What the hell?" He squirmed around trying to dislodge it.

"Mmmm, keep doing that, Jethro. I like it."

"Something's stuck under my ass."

He let go of her and felt around under the water, pulling out a dripping brown blob.

"_What the hell is this?"_

Jen snorted, "A loofah."

"A _what?_ What do you do with it?"

"You soap it up and wash with it. Like a washcloth. I bet you can figure out how to use it."

He smirked as he lathered the sponge and slid it gently down her arm. Slowly, he increased the speed and pressure of the strokes, sliding the loofah down her other arm. When he moved the loofah to her breasts and slid it slowly back and forth across her nipples, she gasped his name and grabbed his knees.

"Jethro."

He continued stroking the sponge lower and lower down her firm abdomen. She shifted and leaned back against him, allowing him more access, and she shivered as his hand moved lower.

"You have no idea how good that feels."

"I'm getting the idea."

She could feel his chest hair and nipples brushing against her back. The stubble on his jaw brushed lightly against her ear as he kissed her neck. He nibbled and sucked his way down her jaw to her lips. At the same time, he brushed the loofah teasingly all around her hips, abdomen, and her inner thighs, but evaded the exact spot she wanted him to touch the most.

"Tease," she gasped.

"You know you love it," he breathed in her ear. "Lift your knees."

He washed each leg with care, stroking down the outside of each leg and then back up the inside. When he reached the top of her thigh, her body tensed.

"God, Jethro, please."

Moving the sponge down between her legs, he stroked in large circles, that gradually got smaller and smaller and faster and faster. Causing her to squirm seeking relief from the tension that was building.

She braced her feet against the tub wall and arched up giving him more access. He moved his other hand up to cup her breast, caressing his calloused thumb back and forth across the rigid nipple, occasionally pinching and rolling it between his fingers. She pushed back against him even harder, whimpering. He slid a finger inside her, causing her to buck her hips. He gently nipped at her neck and shoulders, causing her to tremble. Trailed his lips up to kiss behind her ear slowly, and drew the tip of her earlobe into his warm mouth. Circling her clit with his thumb, and causing her to jerk and moan.

"_Jethro_," she cried out, and moved back and forth against him in a rhythm all her own.

"Let it go, Jen," he murmured as he continued his steady maddening strokes and kisses, while still pinching and teasing her nipple.

She threaded one hand through his hair and grabbed his leg with the other, bracing herself against the oncoming onslaught of feeling. Shudders shook her body as she found her release.

She threw her head against his shoulder, as she gasped for air. He placed soft kisses in her hair, as she slowly came back to earth. She could feel his arousal pushing into her lower back.

She pushed back against him, as she reached her hand behind her back to stroke his length. She slowly slid her hand up and down, drawing moans from him. He bit and kissed her neck and shoulders fervently while pushing his hips into her in frustration.

"Jen, there's not enough room. Need to be inside you," he growled.

Once out of the tub, he urgently lifted her up onto the counter, and she scooted to the edge and opened her legs.

"Hurry ..."

He slid a finger inside her to prepare her for him and realized she was dry.

"Hang on a minute, Jen, you'll like it better after I . . ."

He sat down on the stool, pulling her legs up over his shoulders, and slowly stroked his flat tongue against her, in long, steady strokes, punctuated by short licks and sucks, reveling in her moans.

He peered around her hip to see her reflected in the mirror. She grabbed his hair and pulled hard.

"You're watching, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I want to watch, too."

"Stand up and turn around."

She grabbed the sink, while he eased up behind her and lifted her hips. He entered her smoothly in one thrust; both of them gasping at the exquisite sensation of him filling her as his head dropped onto her shoulder.

Their reflections in the mirror stared back at them.

Jen's red hair was damp and tangled, her eyes fluttering closed in passion. The contrast between her pale soft skin and his darker rougher skin was evident. Jethro's eyes were dark with arousal, his damp hair untidy and mussed. The lust and passion he felt for her was evident in his eyes and he realized that was what she saw when they made love. There was no way she could not know what he felt for her.

"You ready?" he murmured.

"God, yes."

She pushed her hips against him as he thrust, taking him in all the way. His fingers digging into her hipbones as he pulled her back against him again.

"Open your eyes, Jen. Watch me. Watch what you do to me."

He slid one hand to her breast, teasing and rubbing the nipple. The other hand slowly stroked between her legs, picking up the rhythm of his thrusts.

She could see him in the mirror. Sweat beading on his skin. His eyes dark, jaw tense with effort of trying to keep control and draw it out as long as possible.

"Don't stop," she groaned as he continued to move in and out of her. Gripping the sink to keep her balance, and tensing as she felt her release building.

She shuddered against him as he picked up the pace erratically. She could hear him murmuring unintelligible words in her ear. She didn't understand the words, but knew that he did. Words he would never say to her face, only when his defenses were down. She doubted he would remember saying them afterwards.

He tensed and then shuddered with the force of his release. He collapsed on her back with a groan.

"God, Jen. Did I hurt you?" he gasped.

"No, Jethro."

She grabbed his hand and led him to the bed, gently pushing him down on it. She lay down next to him with her back against his chest, spooning into him. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

"Feel better?" he asked, as he pulled the blanket over them.

"Mmmm, yes," she murmured. "Thank you."

"Welcome," he muttered sleepily.

They lay there enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other, sated and spent, and drifted into a soft and dreamless sleep.

Donald Mallard stood uncertainly outside Jennifer's apartment. He'd come by to check on her after hearing through the grapevine about the altercation with a suspect. He'd been assured they were both fine, but he wanted to see for himself. Unable to reach Gibbs, he'd decided to go on over to Jen's apartment first. But something was terribly wrong. The door was not shut all the way and the lock was broken. Ducky entered the apartment warily.

Moving quietly, he pulled a scalpel out of his medical bag, and continued moving slowly and quietly through the living room of the apartment. Wondering what on earth had happened to Jennifer.

Gibbs was awakened from his sleep by the slight creak of the door. In an instant, his Marine reflexes kicked in and he rolled over the side of the bed onto the floor, belly-crawling over where he'd dropped his jeans and his gun. Creeping back to the bed, he tapped Jenny on the shoulder with his gun, and placed the other hand over her mouth. She awoke with a start. He held up his gun and pointed it towards the front of the apartment. She nodded with understanding and eased out of bed, slipping on a t-shirt from the floor.

They crept silently to the doorway of the bedroom, framing either side, weapons at the ready. His eyes locked on Jen's, he counted down with his fingers, _one, two, three_. He went through the doorway, gun in position, with Jenny right behind him.

"Freeze!"

Ducky's hands shot immediately into the air and he dropped the scalpel with an exclamation of alarm.

"Don't shoot, it's Ducky," shouted Jenny.

"Jethro! My God, man. You very nearly gave me a heart attack," Ducky gasped with relief.

"More like a bullet through the heart, Duck," growled Gibbs. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard about your scuffle, and came to check on Jennifer. What are you doing here? I've been trying to reach you."

"I brought her here. Stayed to make sure she was okay."

'Is she? I need to check her over. You know the protocol, Jethro."

Before Gibbs could answer, Jenny grinned at them both wryly from where she was leaning in the doorway, as she watched the battle of the chauvinists.

"You know I'm right here, and am perfectly capable of speaking for myself."

Gibbs glared at her as Ducky smiled apologetically.

"I'm fine, Ducky," she continued. "Jethro made me soak in the tub, drink a little bourbon and take a pain killer. I feel much better now."

Ducky got his first good look at Gibbs, taking in his damp untidy hair and the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, also noticing that Jennifer was wearing only a t-shirt, turned inside out.

Ducky looked from Gibbs to Jenny, taking in their tension and nervousness, as the awkwardness of the situation slowly dawned on them. He couldn't resist the dig; a way to let them know he knew what else they'd been up to and was fine with it.

"Ah, I didn't know you wore lavender, Jethro," he said with sparkling eyes and a huge grin.

THE END


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